Cloudy Morning
by LeenaChild
Summary: *SPOILERS FROM SEASON 5* When he was Peter's CI, their strategies were always balanced and unlike Agent Seigel, Peter cared about Neal's well-being. NealWhump.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This fic is my first piece of writing EVER! I have no experience writing anything except persuasive essays, that I've only written for school. Also English is not my first language so you're probably going to be really frustrated reading this (I have a really bad relationship with commas .) Sorry I'm not sorry. If you end up reading this please review it, even if you're only going to point out the flaws, because I really want to improve. **

**Disclaimer: I think I'm suppose to point out that I don't own White Collar or any of the characters.**

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White Collar~

Neal arranged his thoughts as he walked to Peter's office. He knew that Agent Seigel's plan held too much unnecessary risk and that's something Peter certainly avoided at all costs, but then again Neal has been complaing about most of his new handler's strategies. He was clever no doubt about that but also reckless and too confident of himself. Neal smiled to himself as he realized how much he had in common with David Seigel. He didn't think they made a good team with both of them being too ambitions. When he was Peter's CI, their strategies were always balanced and unlike Agent Seigel, Peter cared about Neal's well-being.

"Hey, Peter. You busy?" Neal asked as he slid the door open.

"What is it now, Neal?"

Peter did in fact look busy. There were, folders, reports, and files piled up in different corners of his desk. Nonetheless, he gave Neal a nod and waved him in.

Neal gave Peter a brief update about the case and told him about how the team hadn't made any progress. More specifically, he hadn't made any progress.

Neal was apposing as a client looking to buy the Emerald-Diamond Tiara that was stolen from the French museum about 6 weeks earlier. Mozzie had told him that there were whispers about the Tiara arriving the underground black market in New York. It belonged to the French Emperor of Napoleon III, so Neal understood why the French Government was right up their butt, asking for reports about their every move. He is using one of his old aliases, Nick Halden, because he knows it has the best reputation criminal-wise. With this type of look out for the Tiara Neal had to do the best he could to convince the seller, Vittorio, that he was in fact a client and not a former conman working undercover for the FBI.

"Peter, Seigel wants to abandon the undercover operation and his plan is to start flashing badges, show them the warrant, and search the warehouse that HE believes holds the Tiara along with some other stolen artifacts."

"Neal I'm sure Seigel has more reason to why he thinks the Tiara is in there. Besides you haven't made any progress. The seller is still digging into Nick Halden and the French Government is forcing Seigel to-"

Neal cut him off "You never used to let anyone stop you from following through an operation no matter how high up the bar they were."

"Yes, but I'm not your handler anymore."

That made Neal shut up. The hope he had that Peter would listen to him had vanished and Peter didn't feel bad. He knew that it was about time Neal started to put more faith in Seigel. Anyway, the plan wasn't going to hurt anyone if it didn't work. Peter was a little surprised at his last thought.

"Neal you have to start trusting Agent Seigel. I don't know why you're so against him lately. And since when do you care about catching a criminal so bad?"

Neal's expression changed to something like fear. "Nothing. You're right I'm just the consultant and he's my handler. Thanks anyway."

Neal hadn't told Peter about the details of their operation. The warehouse had a complex security system that Neal had to crack first. That meant him going in as Nick Halden to find a way to the west side of the warehouse so he could unlock the back gate for the team. It was the only gate that eventually leads to the safe. There were armed guards all over the warehouse and Neal admittedly felt nervous.

The conference room was full of agents ready to go. Neal saw all the protection they had on and wondered if he need some too when someone threw him a vest.

"Try to hide it as much as possible. The vest I mean." Agent Seigel said as put on his own vest.

"I've done it before." Neal said frowning at the ugly thing.

"Good. Did you tell Peter about the op?"

"Yeah" Neal tried not to show his discomfort and he was successful.

"I'm gonna have one of the agents drop the report off before we leave."

Neal nodded hoping that Peter will read the report before they left. He didn't want Peter to get mad at him for leaving out the important details of the op.

"Alright Neal here's your GPS mic watch. We'll be waiting in the van for your call." Seigel gripped Neal's shoulder and then got in the Van. It was two miles away from the warehouse hidden behind an old orphanage. He headed for the warehouse front door when two armed guards greeted him with a frown. They let him in the same room he had been in just three days ago.

"He'll be with you shortly." The guard left and a goon took his place.

Vittorio walked in with a wide grimace that looked almost too perfect. His gray-black hair was elegantly swept back with gel. He wore dark maroon pants with a white shirt tucked in. This man wasn't just any black market re-seller, he's been wanted by the FBI for more than half a decade. Everyone kept saying he hadn't made any progress, when the truth was just being in the same room with this the man was an achievement.

"Hello again, Nick." Vittorio said with his strong Italian accent evident.

"Hello, Vittorio." Neal gave him one of his million dollar smiles.

"You're a very impatient man you know, Mr. Halden?" They both giggled each giggle being faker than the other without sounding like it.

"No worries, I only come bearing gifts" Neal hands the Seller a $2000 dollar bottle of wine which he begged the agent Seigel to "borrow" from the evidence room because any other wine would have been too cheap.

"How did you get your hand on this?" Vittorio looked genuinely surprised, as he held the bottle carefully in his hands. It was in fact one of the rarest wines out there.

Neal smiled, teeth showing, implying something wicked.

"You are more than your reputation Mr. Halden." Neal gave Vittorio a subtle nod.

"Too bad we can't be friends. I really love your taste in house warming gifts."

"Who says you can't befriend a client?" Neal wasn't exactly sure where this was headed.

"Of course. A _client_." Vittorio grimaced then handed his goon the bottle of wine.

"You still don't trust me, Vittorio?" Neal asked not wanting to hear the answer.

"I'm afraid not ."

Vittorio snapped his fingers in the air and Neal would have laughed at such a ridiculous move, if it wasn't for the goon that appeared out of no where and roughly grabbed him by the armpits.

"Vittorio! You're making a mistake!"

"Am I? How about you show me that ear piece?"

Agent Siegel, Barrigan and Jones were listening carefully to Neal's conversation with Vittorio, while sweating excessively in the hot, cramped van. Everyone in the White Collar division hated being in the van and Siegel couldn't wait to catch the criminal. Vittorio was linked to a hand full of homicide cases but they had no tangible evidence to prove him guilty.

_"Of course. A client"_

"I think we should go in." Diana suggested. She was worried about Neal going into this, but Peter had given her and Clinton strict orders about following Siegel's lead on this op.

"Nothing happened, Diana." Seigel huffed.

_ "Vittorio! You're making a big mistake?"_

_"Am I? How about you show me that ear piece?"_

Seigel lifted the mic attached to his headphones in front his mouth, but before he could say anything Neal shouted "Cloudy morning!" His cover was blown. The whole team sat silent for a minute before Diana pulled out her gun and headed out of the van, Jones and Seigel directly following her.

Neal swiftly elbowed the man holding him and spoke to his watch.

"Cloudy morning!" He was suppose to use it in a sentence if he felt like this op was going bad, but then that would have meant saying it at the warehouse front gate.

"Grab him you idiot! And hurry the FBI is probably on their way."

The goon tried to pull Neal's arms to his back but Neal skillfully squirmed out of the goon's petty grasp, then twisted his arm.

Vittorio was feeling impatient, nervously looking around, waiting for the police to ambush them. He grabbed the gun in the goon's holster, waited for a clear shot and took it.

The bullet hit the left side of Neal's chest springing him to the side, knocking the wind right out of him. He fell to floor with a thud, body limp and motionless.

"He isn't dead." Vittorio said, as the goon froze for a second.

"Now, carry him to the truck or I'll shoot you too!"

"Show me your hands!" Diana raised her gun at one of the armed guards in front of the gate as Jones did so too.

"Now drop your guns to the ground and pass them towards me."

_BANG _

The whole team was startled by the sound. It was faint but they all knew it came from the warehouse.

"I got them. You guys go in."

Seigel lead Jones into the warehouse. They checked all the rooms even cracked the security lock to check if they were hiding in the room that allegedly held the safe, but no sign of them.

"Clear." Jones lowered his gun and gave a sigh.

"Damn it. Call Peter I'm gonna go check if the guards have anything to say."

Agent Jones contemplated the fact that he had to be the one to tell Peter the bad news, but before he could even reach for his phone, it started ringing. It was Peter.

Peter was tired of sitting in his office doing paper work. He had so much work he didn't even have time for coffee breaks. He'd have to ask a probie to bring him some. Maybe he was built for field work and not office work. He shrugged to himself and continued looking through the files on his desk. Peter looked at the report about the operation Neal had told him about earlier that day. As he got half way through, his eyes widened. He fumbled through the mess on his desk until he found his cell and speed-dialed Jones.

"Jones."

"Peter. There's something I need to tell you." Peter gripped the cell harder as his stomach twisted for what he was about to hear.

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**Thank you for reading and sorry about all the mistakes and bad writing. Now would ya help a beginner out and critique this ;D?**

**Next chapter will hopefully have better grammar.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the late update! Thank you all for the reviews. It made me so happy and motivated to see all the good response i got on my first piece of writing. I especially appreciate all those who pointed out the flaws and those still following 3 I had my friend named Heba beta-ed this for me. She did such a great job I think you guys will notice :)**

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_Slosh_

Ice-cold water was poured over Neal's head. It cascaded down, covering the rest of his body as he jerked and shuddered. The water shocked him. He tried to move but couldn't, because his hands were bound behind him, and his feet were tied to the chair's legs. He was stripped down to nothing but his undershirt, pants and shoes. His eyes failed to see his surroundings. The only light available was the spotlight above him.

"Buongiorno"

Neal looked around to see where the voice was coming from.

"How are you feeling Mr. Caffrey?" He heard the noise echo from behind him.

"Peachy. Where am I?" Neal coughed out.

"Don't worry about that. You'll be out of here in no time, if you cooperate."

"Whatever you say, your majesty." Neal's head was abruptly yanked backwards by an abrupt pull of his hair. He groaned of a pain much more severe than of the few hairs that were ripped off his scalp. It was the sharp pain radiating through his chest that did most of the work.

"I have no problem playing rough Mr. Caffrey." Vittorio let go and pushed Neal's head forward. He stood in front of Neal, and then stooped down to meet Neal's gaze. "All I need from you is the name of the rat who told the FBI about me. You know how I don't like snitches. Especially ones who talk to the FBI"

Neal gulped silently. He wasn't going to tell him. Not in a million years.

"You give me a name and an address and I'll let you go."

Neal glared at Vittorio. He wasn't going to put Mozzie's life in danger.

"Your choice Mr. Caffrey." Vittorio walked a couple of steps back, a bulky tall goon taking his place.

"I know you don't like violence, probably because it's your weakness. I'm sure you'll crack sooner or later."

The goon folded his hand into a fist and aimed for Neal's chest. Neal had his eyes closed before the goon punched him right where the gunshot had broken his ribs. He let out a harsh cry despite all his efforts to suppress it. The goon proceeded to batter him in the same spot not realizing- Neal had already fainted after the first hit.

"What a weakling," Vittorio complained, as if someone had rudely interrupted his fun.

_Good morning, this is Conrad Blackwood with Monday's weather report. Right now it's 41 degrees and cloudy outside. There's a 50 percent chance of showers later in the afternoon that might last all night…_

"Three days. It's been three days and I still can't find Neal," said Peter, his voice barely above a whisper, but Elizabeth heard him.

"I know you'll find him, Peter. You always do." Elizabeth comforted Peter as well as herself.

"How can you be so sure? Diana said she heard a gunshot. For all I know he could-"

Elizabeth pulled Peter into a hug and cut him off. "Peter, don't talk like that! You said he had a vest on. He should be fine. Now go to work, find him, and bring him back home."

Peter gently pulled himself out of El's clasp and headed for the door.

"Love you, El"

She smiled and closed the door after Peter left.

Peter walked into the office stopping for a second to look at Neal's empty desk. It was his fault Neal was kidnapped. He should have listened to Neal. "Yes, but I'm not your handler anymore." He didn't want that to be last thought Neal had of Peter.

"What do you have for me, Diana?" Peter asked as he entered the conference room.

"We found an abandoned van near the lake. The van was stolen about a week ago. It matches the photos taken by the street cams."

"Have forensics check it for finger prints and DNA."

"On it."

Peter saw Agent Seigel sitting at the end of table. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was all messy, looking like he hadn't slept since the incident.

"How many cups of coffee have you had, Seigel?"

Seigel looked up from his laptop screen and blinked at Peter. "Oh, um. Not sure."

"And how many hours, or minutes of sleep did you get last night?"

"How many have _you_ had, boss?" Peter smiled.

"Touché."

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll find him." Seigel also felt guilty, almost as much as Peter did.

"This isn't your fault. They already knew he wasn't who he said he was before you even started the op. If we're going to lay the blame on someone it should be me. But right now Neal needs us. So we can feel guilty after we find him"

Seigel nodded in agreement and proceeded to work with more energy.

Neal was drowning himself in his own thoughts to get his mind off the pain throbbing in his bruised and clobbered body. He was wondering what day it was, if Peter was trying to look for him and he was starting to lose hope that they will find him in time. Maybe they thought he was dead and had given up on him long ago, thinking was just as painful as being beaten to the pulp with a baseball bat.

"You're up! We may proceed then."

Vittorio has been enjoying his time tormenting the great Neal Caffrey; almost to the extent where it didn't matter if Neal told him about the snitchers of his illegal business. Almost.

"Give me a name and an address."

The goon swung the baseball bat and whammed it against Neal's arm. Neal let out a groan. Tears started to form in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"Name and address"

Neal's body tensed up in preparation for the next hit.

"Maybe it's time for an upgrade."

The goon walked to a corner of the room. Sounds of metal clinking buzzed in Neal's bleeding ears. The goon then came out of the darkness a few seconds later, holding a dagger in his right hand. Without any warning, he slashed Neal's right shoulder. Neal cried in pain and whimpered once more as he saw the blood oozing down his shoulder, soaking his white shirt.

"Ready to talk?"

"Go to Hell!" Neal shouted between whimpers.

The goon gripped Neal's shoulder and then pressed his thumb into Neal's open wound. Neal winced and stifled a cry but he couldn't stop his tears from flowing.

"No! no, stop! I'll tell you. Just make him stop." Finally.

The goon let go and Neal let out a ragged sigh.

"If the name and address is fake I will come back here and cut your arm off."

"No, no. No games just promise you'll let me go if I tell you."

"You have my word."

"35 Park Avenue, apartment 202. His name is Haversham"

Vittorio let himself smile wickedly and left the room. Neal obviously didn't trust him. He just needed to buy some time to get himself out of this place. He's been working on his bonds whenever he could, which paid off because he slipped them off as soon as they left. Pushing through a quick escape, he untied his legs then leaned on the chair with his left arm and got himself standing. As the room swirled around him, Neal realized that he was in no shape to be standing much less trying to escape captivity. He took a few wobbly, barely successful steps until he slammed his body against the wall. While slowly walking along side the wall, he felt a different surface scratch against his arm. Wood. Neal's hands frantically searched for the handle. The door was locked, but there was a keyhole on his side. Thinking fast, Neal untied his shoes and pulled out two pins that were hiding in the inner surface of his shoe. He worked on the lock until he heard a _click_. Gingerly getting back on his feet, he slowly peeked out the door to check if anyone sat guard. Luckily, no one did.

Neal tipped toed to the end of hallway and down the stairway. A sickness started to overcome him, but nevertheless, he pushed himself through four flights of stairs. He was almost at the ground floor when he couldn't hold it in any longer. He leaned on the handrail next to him and puked what little food they had given him. He wheezed when the pain got worse, stressing on his chest now. He heaved and wiped his mouth, feeling disgusted with himself.

"HEY! He's getting away!" Someone pointed from the top floor.

Neal ran but stumbled on his last step, hitting the ground hard. Releasing his pain with a brief shout, he got up almost instantly. There was no time to lose. He found the exit door of the warehouse but it was locked. He looked around and found a rusty empty tank, picking it up and smashing it on the handle repeatedly. The muffled orders being carried out above him made him use almost all his energy. The handle shattered and the door opened.

Seeing nothing but abandoned buildings and a polluted lake, Neal knew he was far from home. He wanted it all to end, but he knew if he gave up now, they would probably cut off his hands and kill him, which was not the kind of ending he wanted. Neal used every bit of strength left in him- to reach the dock. He looked behind him and saw an angry mob of goons running toward him, drawing their guns. Neal relaxed his body, finally giving in to the darkness. His whole body slumped as he plunged into the water.

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**I hope you guys liked this chapter and all the Neal whump. Don't forget to write a review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry it took so long! I've had two weeks of tests and since this is my senior year in high school, I've been working my butt off to get into college. I haven't had time to write a proper chapter so this is all I got done. I have one test left so hopefully the next chapter will be longer and better. **

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_Who are you?_

_The words echoed in his foggy mind as it looked for some kind of response. Neal thought about answering the question, but he couldn't. He just didn't know. All he knew was that he needed someone, someone important to him, someone he trusted. Does that person feel the same. Neal mentally shook his mind. "You're a criminal." No they didn't need him. He was, and forever will be a criminal._

_"Seriously, dude, what are you doing here? Are you okay?"_

Neal felt himself being pulled away from the heavy mist.

"Wha-" He croaked forcing opened his heavy eyelids, a blurry image of a young figure danced in front of him.

"You need help?"

Neal sat himself up, his hands sinking in the ground, pulling them out to rub his eyes. He regret the action immediately. Sand covered his eyes but the burning sensation quickly faded as other parts of his body began screaming for attention.

"Yeah, is there a phone nearby?" Neal looked up at the kid, as he gradually started recalling his last events.

"Yeah there is. You want me to call an ambulance? You look pretty bad."

"No I'll take care of that, just show me where it is."

They young boy helped the young man up on his feet. He walked him up the beach and pointed to where the pay phone was located.

"Here" The boy opened Neal's clenched fists and gave him a few coins.

"Thanks." Neal smiled a crooked smile as the boy ran elsewhere.

Hands shaking, Neal picked up the phone as he inserted the coins. His body was now trembling; he could feel his pulse weakening as the amount of blood reaching his brain decreased. He was frustrated at how long it took him to locate the numbers. The activity of just pressing the keys sent waves of pain through his bleeding shoulder. Sharp pain threatened to overcome him as he leaned his throbbing body on the glass walls incasing him.

_Hello?_

"Peter?"

Peter had finally agreed to go home, after spending 20 hours working dead ends. The agents worked hard and were doing their jobs well, but Peter had been very agitated and well, unstable, that they decided he needed to go home and get some sleep. After all he was the assistant special agent of the White Collar division. He was supposed to leave all the fieldwork to his agents instead of insisting on accompanying each and every single one of them. But this was different. It was about Neal and although they weren't partners, Neal was still his friend. This was his fault and he owed him much more.

"Hon"

Peter tried to enter the master bedroom without waking his wife, but she was a light sleeper.

"Sorry I woke you up."

Elizabeth rolled to her side to get a clear look of the clock sitting on their nightstand.

"Two in the morning! Hunny," She knew her husband was tired but also upset because he hadn't found Neal yet.

Peter only took off his jacket, and shoes before he collapsed next to his wife. He buried his face in his pillow when he felt water forming behind his lids. El caressed his hair, like she knew despite his attempt to hide his emotions. He felt pathetic. How could he let himself cry when Neal was probably going through worse?

"Peter, honey, your phone is ringing."

Peter briefly buried his face deeper into the pillow, so the fabric would absorb the water that had escaped his eyes, before questioningly looking at his wife.

"No caller ID."

Peter accepted the call and held the phone next to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Peter?"_

His heart sunk deep, and his face flushed with disbelief. Tears presumed to roll. But this time he let them.

"Oh my God, Neal? Where are you? Are you okay?"

_"I'm not sure."_ Neal wheezed painfully.

"Don't worry."

Peter moved the mic away from his mouth and told Elizabeth to call Diana.

"Tell her to track the call-"

"I got it Peter." Elizabeth's smile was full of relief. She was on her feet immediately.

"Neal, you still there?" Peter could hear Neal's ragged breath and it seemed like it took forever for the kid to reply.

_"Yeah. Maybe you could… hurry up a bit?"_ Neal voice was getting weaker by the second.

"Hey, hang in there okay? I'm coming to get you." Peter put his shoes and jacket back on, as El brought him the car keys.

"Diana sent the location to the GPS in your car." Said El anxiously.

"You hear that Neal? I'm on my way!" Peter was darting towards the stairway when he heard a thud and then a clunk. "Neal! Neal? Neal, please answer me!"

_"You hear that Neal? I'm on my way!"_

Those words did it for him. He knew Peter was now coming for him. He trusted the man with his life. Now he can finally just let go.

Neal fell back against the phone booth door, pushing it open with his weak figure. He collapsed out in the cold rain, tapping of the raindrops hypnotizing him and motivating him to go deeper. Neal let the pain overcome him and fell into unconsciousness.

As soon as Peter arrived, he sprinted out of the car looking for a phone booth, his heart beating fast. He found one at the end of the street he was in. Peter's chest broke as he looked down at the pale form of Neal Caffrey. Peter wrapped his strong arms around the man's lean figure and gently dragged the rest of his body out of the booth.

"Neal? Neal, wake up." Peter begged as he desperately patted Neal's face. He noticed it felt burning hot despite the rain and the cold weather. He had an ugly, dark bloodstain on his shoulder and shirt. He cringed as he took in the countless other injuries, all of them blending together to form dark colored patterns on Neal's skin.

"Hmmm" Neal's reply was weak, and it took a lot of strength for him just to get that out. Peter smiled and placed his palm around Neal's jaw, happy to hear his voice. He took off his jacket and covered Neal's lean figure, then gingerly, lifted Neal's head and placed it on his lap.

"Hey, buddy, you think you can open your eyes for me?"

"Pe-" Neal's shaking became more prominent. His eyes were now wide open, pupils dilated. Peter held Neal's hand and squeezed. "It's alright, Neal Relax. I'm right here."

"Peter. It burns," Neal painfully moaned, as he squeezing back.

"Ambulance is on its way-" Neal cried as agony escalated in his open wound. He tried to curl around it but his injured body objected, causing him more pain and suffering.

Peter felt overwhelmed. He wanted to pull Neal into a hug and comfort him, but he knew that would only cause his friend more pain. Instead, Peter cupped Neal's face and soothed him with words. He had to be there for Neal.

"It's alright buddy. I'm here. I'm right here. Stay with me okay? You hear that? The cavalry is here, you're going to be fine." Neal's sobbing eyes focused on Peter's.

"That's right. Show me those big blue eyes of yours." Peter continued to stroke Neal's wet hair, brushing it away from his wet forehead, until the shivers subsided.

"Agent Peter Burke? Can you step aside please?" Peter nodded at the EMT then took a quick glance at Neal as he positioned his head on a cushion the EMT offered.

"Peter!" Agent Seigel called from behind Peter, his voice full of concern. "How is he?"

"I'm no doctor, but from what I've seen, he looks pretty bad. I don't understand why they would do this." Peter ran his fingers through his moist hair as the rain began to stop.

"Agent Burke!" An EMT yelled at Peter, pointing at the other EMT trying to pin Neal to the ground. "He's panicking. I think he's hallucinating."

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Thanks for sticking around. Don't forget to post a review ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this isn't exactly long like I promised. It's just because I'm stuck and I don't want to leave you guys hanging. **

**Sorry about all the whump, Neal! **

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_He felt the man that took care of him desert him. He was left alone for a brief moment before two men took up his view. Neal tried to focus, to see who they were. He didn't know them. He didn't trust him. Were they here to hurt him? Neal focused again, his vision finally settled on the light reflected on their face. It was him, Vittorio, and his goon. They brought him back in the room and this time, they weren't going to let him go. Neal tried to fight them, he pushed his arm against them. They avoided it, but then pushed him back. His head throbbed. He tried to reach for it to protect himself, curving into a ball, but Vittorio and the goon won't let him. Neal had had about enough of the torture and suffering they have caused him. Neal kicked at his captors. It hurt him more than it hurt them, but it got them to retreat for a while. Neal stood wanting to flee, but he didn't know where he would go. Before he even had time to think of the answer, Peter came into picture._

Peter saw Neal cornered in the street. He was ashen, soaked in sweat. His eyes had a hard time focusing, like they were looking for a way out.

"Neal?" Peter murmured, afraid of alarming the young man.

"T-They're trying to take me b-back, Pet." Neal's shivering body was beginning to sway, his hands reaching for his head protectively, as the throbbing and the beating intensified.

"Neal, listen to me. You're safe now, we found you and we won't let anyone else hurt you." Peter took a few steps closer to Neal his arms reaching for the ex-con.

"Promise me. Promise you won't let me go back."

"Promise. You're staying with me, and El for as long as you want. Your home is with us."

A weak smile appeared on Neal's face before he slumped against his partner's shoulder. He lowered him carefully to the ground and allowed the paramedics to check his vitals before they carried him to a stretcher. Peter didn't leave Neal's sight after that. He was bewildered by the state he had seen Neal in. He knew that when the ex-con awoke he wouldn't want to remember his moment of vulnerability.

Peter felt a gentle brush against his hair. He opened his eyes to the most beautiful view he has seen in a long time.

"Hey, hon."

"Hey, El. Did they call for me yet?" Peter rubbed at his eyes and yawned before adjusting his position.

"No. I wanted to tell you I called June, but Mozzie is still not picking up. You think he's alright?"

"I'll try and call him again maybe he'll pick up the number I have."

"Ok I'll go get us some coffee." El kissed her husband on the cheek and gave him privacy.

Surprisingly it only took a couple of rings before the conman answered.

_"Suit."_

"Mozzie."

_"I know you're on my back. You think I wouldn't know?"_

"What do you mean?"

_"Don't play me, Suit. You had someone look into one of my old apartments. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint but they didn't find anything there."_

"Mozzie it wasn't me. I called to tell you that we found Neal."

_"Neal! You found him! Where is he?" _

"He's at the hospital. I think he escaped Vittorio's imprisonment. He's in pretty bad shape, Mozz."

_"You think the apartment intervention phenomenon had something to do with Neal? That doesn't matter now. What hospital?"_

"Brooklyn Hospital Center."

_"Thanks" _

Peter hung up and looked behind him to see his wife waving at him.

"It's Neal's doctor."

Peter smiled and shook the doctor's hand.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Desmond Mauldin, you must be Agent Burke."

"Yes. How is he?" Peter cut to the chase.

Dr. Mauldin looked at the Burkes sympathetically and sighed. "We've given him 72 stitches for the open would on his shoulder. It was severely infected so he's on intravenous antibiotics. He lost a lot of blood; we had to give him a transfusion. Three broken ribs, middle ribcage on his right punctured his right lung, causing a breach and eventually, I'm sorry, minor internal bleeding. We've attended to it but he will have a hard time breathing. He's on high doses of morphine but still he's in a lot of pain. We've immobilized his broken humerus with a cast that he'll have on for at least 8 weeks. He suffered a mild concussion and Lacerations on his arms and across his abdomen and chest should take a few weeks to heal. He's going to need a lot of support not only because of his physical trauma but also because of the mental trauma." The doctor pulled out a business card and handed it to Peter. "This is Dr. Reddick's card. He's one of our best psychologists here."

Elizabeth has been holding her breath listening to the doctor. She held back the bile in her throat as she thought, _why would anyone do this?_ She didn't understand why Neal had to go through all of that. It didn't make sense. She reached for her husband's hand and saw the same kind of expression she had.

"When can we see him?" Peter breathed, his hand firmly gripping back.

"We could take you now. He's feverish so you need to make sure not wake him. He needs his rest."

"Of course." Peter nodded and followed the doctor. He gestured at the door then left them alone. Elizabeth walked in first; she took a muffled gasp as she started tearing up. Peter wrapped his arms around her, both taking in the scene. Neal, like the doctor said, was hooked up to an IV antibiotic, his arm wrapped up in a cast and his skin still clammy. He blended in perfectly with the gray and white walls of the room perhaps he was even paler if it wasn't for discoloration on some parts of his body. That night, Peter and Elizabeth sat on the bitter couch in each other's arms, waiting for their close friend to come back to them.


End file.
